Tuesdays
by Baffled Queen
Summary: Or; the universe hates Logan Walker. But only on Tuesday. Logan Walker leads a dangerous life, but none of it could even come close to the horrors of Tuesday. The world, it seems, is out to get him. Briefly, Logan reflects on his earliest memory of Tuesday. He /really/ hates Tuesdays.
1. Waffles

Logan wasn't sure when it began. Well, that was a lie- it had definitely been a Tuesday. He just wasn't sure how old he had been when _it_ began. His earliest memory of Tuesday was a long time ago, and if he had to guess he would say he was probably two or three. It had, of course, started out like any other day (Tuesdays alway did), but it wasn't. No, although young Logan Walker hadn't realized it, it was a Tuesday.

...

Three year old Logan Walker was having breakfast. At least, he was _trying_ to have breakfast. His big brother, Hesh (his name was really David), was already eating. He looked rather smug about that, and Logan felt a flare of anger. Stupid Hesh and his stupid waffles. Logan's- and Hesh's too, dummy- Mama was making him some more waffles. First their dog, an old german shepherd named Ross, had swiped them off his plate 'cause he'd gone to the bathroom. Then he'd tipped his glass over,- somehow that was Hesh's fault, and Logan knew it- and spilt milk all over his _new_ waffles. Finally, his Mama gave him some _new_ new waffles, and Logan could eat. Then his dad walked in, and playfully swiped them.

Logan's dad, though he didn't know it at the time, had meant to make his youngest son some more waffles after he had eaten the ones Logan was supposed to have. There were no more waffles. Logan cried.

That wasn't all, though (it usually wasn't, on Tuesdays). Hesh and Logan went outside to play, but Hesh went to play with his group of friends. They were running about playing 'war', but Logan wasn't allowed to play. Hesh's friends said he was too little, and would get in the way. Sadly, Hesh agreed. It took some time, but eventually Logan wandered off. On a whim, he travelled by sidewalk, staring at the sky, or off into space never really paying attention to where his feet were taking him. As it turned out, his feet ended up taking him to the mall. This was especially odd because the mall was four miles from Logan's house.

The little boy was spared walking the four miles back home by bumping into Ajax, who was definitely not shopping at Hot Topic. The man regarded the child for a few moments before crouching down. "Are you lost, bud?" He asked, looking the blond boy in the eyes. Logan nodded, thoroughly exhausted from all the walking. The tall man frowned, before going for another question. "Well, where did you last see them?" Ajax asked, prepared to help this kid find his mama. "Home." The toddler cooed sleepily, scrubbing at his eyes. The ghost started in surprise. "Do you know your adress?" He asked before sighing at the child's blank look.

"Well, what's your papa's name?" Ajax asked, prepared to look the father up in the phone book. Logan yawned widely, eyes scrunching up. " 'Lias Wahker." He replied, sounding small and tired. The man's eyes widened considerably, and he offered to take Logan home. Within ten minutes, Ajax had gotten back to the Walker Household. Helping the sleepy little boy out of the car, he carried him to the door and knocked. Logan's Mama was so thankful she cried. Logan's dad cried when he thought no one was looking. Hesh offered to let Ajax keep him. Logan hid all of Hesh's left shoes.

...

Tuesdays were always strange, without exception. Logan had long since learned that- it was an easy lesson to learn, since Tuesday occurred once a week. No rest for the wicked, he mused. Suddenly, Logan Walker was struck with a brilliant idea. He sat down and wrote about any Tuesday he could remember.

* * *

Disclaimer: Don't own Call of Duty. Presumably never will.

Tuesdays are the bane of Logan's existence. There have been quite a few Tuesdays in his twenty-five years of life. May continue, though it probably wouldn't be linear.


	2. Slender

Logan Walker was twelve years old, and it was a Tuesday. Now, he wasn't actually sure of that, since his dad had taken them all camping, but it _had_ to be Tuesday. Things like this never happened on any other day of the week. Logan was lost. It had happened a few times before, but his dad had always found him before night time. With now being the exception, of course. It just so happened to be a new moon, so the littlest Walker was rummaging around in his backpack for a flashlight. After a few moments, his fingers brushed plastic, and he withdrew his hand.

"Bingo." He mumbled to himself, turning it on. Picking his bag back up, Logan shone the light around. The blond boy was standing in a clearing, the trees surrounding him on all sides. As he scanned the tree line, a flash of white caught his eye. Stepping forward, Logan discovered that it was a note. Said note was pinned to an old, dead tree. Reaching forward, the twelve year old tugged the piece of notebook paper free. With a frown, he realized that it read 'HELP ME'. On an instinct, the young man turned it over. 'Find eight pages' the other side commanded.

As Logan stuffed the sheet of paper into his pocket, his heartbeat filled his ears. He shuddered involuntarily, but did as the paper said. Hands curled into fists, he shuffled along the dirt path. He had strong feeling of being watched, but he didn't turn around. Instead he began to walk faster. For a while, the sounds of the forest, and the thumping of his feet on the road, calmed him down. However, as he drew near a truck and a shed, the feeling of dread returned full forced. Logan paced around the truck, looking for a note. There was a brief flash of triumph, but it was eclipsed by a rolling sensation in his stomach. With a tiny, confused murmur he realized that the note read 'No eyes. Always watches.' He shoved the note into his pocket with the other one, and took off. The odd feeling dissipating as he got further away, but the prickling at the back of his neck stayed.

His feet slowed, and the soft clapping of his feet fell silent. Logan's heartbeat roared in his ears, and the feeling of being watched returned. This time, however, the boy turned to look. For a moment, he saw nothing. Then, like before, a flash of white caught his eye. Reflexively, he turned his head to look at it. There between the trees stood a man. Logan's breath caught in his throat, and he turned around as quickly as he could. He ran. He ran like the hounds of hell were after him. The 'man' was tall- nearly eight feet- and his skin was white as the snow. However, his most striking feature was his apparent lack thereof. The creepy whatever-it-was had no facial features, and that was kind of terrifying. Perhaps even the scariest thing about it. Although, Logan allowed, an argument could have been made for the writhing tentacles of darkness seeping forth from him.

Feet pounding into the turf, the young man made it his business to get the hell out of Dodge. His breath came in quick, shallow pants as he ran, awkward preteen legs stretching as far as he could manage in order to lengthen his strides. One foot in front of the other, Logan grew further and further from the shed. The steady thrumming in his ears kept him from outright panicking, though another flash of white made him speed up. His eyes fuzzed at the edges, having caught sight of 'him', and he looked away. With a blatant disregard for the abuse of his ankles, he shifted his weight. His only concern was going forward faster. Now Logan was gasping for air, and it was cold in his lungs.

After a while he stopped his sprint, and reverted to a run. The littlest Walker charged forward for what seemed like eons. Skillfully, he picked his way over roots and dips, never once missing a step. Filled with terror, he continued on, though his muscles said 'take a rest, you ding-dong!'. With a heavy heart, and weary bones, Logan continued his prolonged dash. There was a large, blocky shape ahead of him in the gloom. Triumphantly, he realized that it was a building. Then he came to yet another realization.

Not once had he checked to see if the 'man' had followed him, and he slowed. Turning his head, he was deeply, sincerely relieved to see that the creature hadn't chased him. Logan tripped as he turned around, and crashed to the ground. Scrambling to right himself, he never once noticed that he had lost his backpack somewhere along the way. Fingers tightly grasping his flashlight, Logan stumbled his way towards the building. As he approached the entrance, he noticed that both the walls and floor were tile. Looking behind himself once more, he was relieved at the lack of tall, slender 'men'. He stepped into the hallway, stumbling through loudly.

His feet clattered on the floor as he turned down another hall. There was a room to his right, and he peered into it. It was empty, if you excluded the wooden chair, and entirely unremarkable. That is, if you didn't count the note tacked to the wall. Logan whimpered as he stepped into the open space, and hurriedly snatched the paper up. It was a picture of the tall man, albeit a poorly drawn one, surrounded by jagged letters reading 'NO' over and over again. With a thick swallow, that note joined the others. Yet again, the sensation of being watched made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Heart pounding in his chest, the littlest Walker dashed out of the room, and down the hall. He rounded the corner, and there, standing right in the exit, was the pillar of terror. He let out a tiny shriek, and turned on heel.

Dashing away, Logan's shoulder grazed a wall as he turned the corner yet again. There he was again. The thing was standing there, and Logan's vision grew fuzzy when he looked at it. With a little gasp, he wheeled around yet again, and ran. He ran until he was out of the building. He kept running until he was out of breath and his legs hurt. Somewhere along the way, he had crashed back into the forest and onto the dirt path. Now the young man stood at the gaping maw of what appeared to be a tunnel. Logan swallowed fearfully, trying to rally the strength to keep going. He had never been so scared in his life, and never wanted to be again. Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward.

"Keep going, Logan" He murmured to himself, licking his lips. One step, and then another. Feeling (quite justifiably, in his opinion) reasonably terrified, he shone the flashlight around. Having done that, he felt some relief, though honestly he didn't want to find any more notes. He moved closer to the wall of the tunnel, fingertips brushing the cement. The solidity of the wall was comforting, especially after the odd events of this particular night. Walking slowly, Logan let his heartbeat slow until he couldn't feel it pounding in his ears anymore. He closed his eyes, shuffling forward. Letting the wall be his guide, he kept his hand stretched out. Then he felt paper under his fingers, and his breath caught.

He opened one eye, and it swiveled around until it rested on the sheet of paper. With trembling fingers, Logan reached out and snatched it from the wall. Shining his flashlight on the page, he whimpered. This one had a picture of a tree, and the slender 'man' and the word 'FOLLOWS' written vertically on the right side of the note. A feeling of terror seeped into Logan's bones, and the hair on his neck and arms raised. He turned around slowly, and actually screamed when he caught sight of It. For a moment, he was transfixed, and his eyes glazed over. Shaking himself out of it, he turned and ran. He stumbled out of the tunnel, and tripped in the dark. Fearfully, he hauled himself back into a standing position. Having twisted his ankle quite badly, running was not going to be an option anymore.

Stepping forward gingerly, he ignored the twinge of pain from his ankle. He had four pages now- he was half way there. The creature didn't seem to want him to collect the notes, but now that he _had_ them it was too late. Carefully, Logan picked his way along the worn path. It was scary in this strange place, and, (though he wouldn't admit it) he really wanted his dad or brother. Both would be preferable. He stumbled again, and a feeling of heat raced up his leg. Having had a rude call-back to reality, he focused on getting the rest of the notes. It was slow going on an injured foot, but it was becoming easier to ignore as he went.

As he shuffled down the path, he felt the urge to turn around and look behind him. Logan stopped in his tracks and looked over his shoulder. He felt a surge of relief at the lack of terrifying creatures of darkness. Turning back around, he felt the relief evaporate instantly. There in front of him was the 'man' yet again. He spun on heel, and power-walked off of the path unthinkingly. His foot twinged, and he gasped. Dodging between trees, he felt like someone was watching him. Within another few moments, he began to feel sick to his stomach. By the time he reached a clearing of- were those _totems_- he was hideously ill. He stumbled forward, finally leaning on one of the poles. The 'man' was watching, Logan knew. His eyes roved around, searching for It. After a few minutes of searching, he gave up. As he straightened himself, he heard the now familiar sound of crinkling paper.

He whimpered as he plucked it off of the post. This one read 'Don't look or It takes you.' Well, Logan though to himself, isn't that cheery? He giggled, sounding a bit hysterical. The feeling of intense sickness was back, along with a healthy dose of terror. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a looming figure. It was closer then it had ever been, and he gasped as he began stumbling away. Logan was fully aware of It's presence behind him, and he shivered as he made it back onto the wooden path. Logan thought he saw a brick wall ahead of him a little ways in the dark. His flashlight was beginning to dim at this point, so he hoped he got the rest of the pages soon.

The horrible feeling dissipated, and he heaved a sigh of relief as he shuffled forward. As he drew closer to the brick structure, Logan realized that it was actually four walls that came together at the middle to make a cross shape. From that distance he could already see the piece of paper tacked on. Speeding up, it wasn't long at all before the sixth note was in Logan's hot little hand. His stomach roiled and churned as he struggled to move away. The 'man' was behind him, closer then it'd ever been before. "Leave me alone!" Logan wailed, which, coincidentally, is what the note read.

At his command, the awful feeling went away instantly, making him stumble. By this time his ankle was mostly numb, and not in a good way. The heavy thud of a deadweight was much too loud when he was being hunted. Logan forged onwards, too stubborn to give up. He had six notes now, and it was much too late to throw in the towel- especially with It after him. Whatever It was, It wanted him for- for something. Logan didn't really want to know what.

Out of the corner of his eye, It was always there. His heart, which had been racing fof quite some time, picked up the pace every time it caught his attention. The combined thudding of his foot and his heart beat filled his ears, his breath coming in wheezing pants. Logan was not it good shape, and he knew it. Somehow, Logan knew It knew, too. With each breath he took, his chest seemed to constrict, and every time he blinked, his eyes became that much heavier. 'Don't worry, Logan.' a soothing voice murmured out of nowhere 'Go ahead- take a nap.'

"Nnnnaaaah." Logan argued intelligently. As good as a nap sounded, those fucking pages were _his_, bitch! With slightly renewed vigor, he continued a steady shuffle down the dirt path. As he shone his light around, It disappeared, off to do whatever young and impressionable beings of pure darkness did at this time of night. It was probably eating puppies or something. Lethargically, Logan shuffled to his left, having caught sight of a cluster of large rocks. There was really no reason to move towards the boulders, except that there might be a page.

When the sound of his shuffling became the crunch of feet on rocks, he was close enough to see. There, between the rocks, was a note. Logan tore it off of the rock and stumbled away from the rock as quickly as he could manage. The 'man' who he had taken to calling It was a constant presence at this point, and Logan's vision was constantly blurry at the edges. He made it his main goal to stay the hell away from It, even as he caught his eye on It. The young man froze for a moment, jerking back into motion seconds later. After some time, he looked down at the note clenched in his fist. It was a picture of the 'man' standing by some trees. With a start, Logan realized that he had page number seven in his hot little hand.

He had no idea how long he'd been out here, and he almost didn't want to. Logan looked up to see a silo a short distance away. His face was red, and his hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, but he was almost finished. There was only one more note, and he could see it from where he was. 'Can't run' it read. He never noticed his little whimper. He strained every tired, aching muscle in his body, pushing forward with everything he had. With one almost numb foot, everything he had ended up being a normal walking speed.

Logan's eyelids were heavy, his breath seeming infinitely loud, and his heart beat in his ears. Blinking sweat out of his eyes, the exhausted young man stumbled forward and snatched the note off of the silo. Instantly It vanished, and he laughed in relief, slowly sinking to the ground. Leaning against the cool, red metal, he stayed propped in a sitting position taking in breath after breath. He, Logan Walker, had gotten all those thrice damned pages. It was over.

As his eyes closed, he began to hear white noise. It got progressively louder until he forced his eyes open. The creature was there in front of him, but he was too weak to move. Staring at It, his vision grew blurrier by the second. Someone was screaming wordlessly, and dimly, Logan realized it was him. Then, in pure mercy, he lost the fight for consciousness.

...

12 year old Logan Walker was awake, but he felt warm and comfortable, so he kept his eyes shut. The sound of wind in the trees invaded his space, and he smiled. He felt mellow. Someone was nearby. Logan knew that because he could hear shoes crunching twigs and dry grass. With a happy sigh, he shifted on his back. There was no need to get up just yet. He was still so sleepy. A call broke his silence, and he frowned. What had the stranger said? Logan listened carefully.

"...gan? Logan?" The voice called out, sounding worried, and rather desperate. Logan? That was his name. Why was the voice yelling his name. The nice-sounding stranger called his name out again. Logan jolted. That was his dad! He fought to open his eyes just a little bit, a whisper in the back of his mind urging him to sleep. For a moment, his lips wouldn't move, and he filled with panic. Finally, he managed to croak out a "Daaad." In response to the calls which were gr_owing further away._ "Daaaaad!" He yelled, terrified that his father would go away and leave him.

The sound of his father shouting stopped for a moment. "Logan!" Father Walker yelled again, this time the tone was verifying. "Dad!" Logan yelled again, desperately trying to sit up. Running feet were the next thing he registered, having fought himself upright. Then his father was hugging him- no- _cradling_ him like he was going to break any second. Elias murmured things Logan couldn't quite make out, as he gathered his youngest son up. It took the preteen a few moments to figure out that his cheeks were wet with tears, and a lot less time to bury his face in his father's shirt. "Daddy, I wanna go home." He whimpered quietly, the sound muffled by the fabric.

Logan's leg was throbbing and aching, and he couldn't remember why. He couldn't remember anything other then that he had gotten lost and been scared, didn't even remember breaking his ankle. Which, oddly, was in a splint already, though Logan's backpack had been with his brother the whole time.

...

After a few weeks, Logan's memories began to return, though he told no one. When he found the pages still in the pants pocket, his breath had hitched. Slowly, everything came seeping back, and though he dreamt about it, he never woke up screaming. In the end, he remembered everything- except for what happened after It had caught him. He would never find out. He didn't care very much. It was over.

* * *

Well this fic went from cute to something else entirely rather abruptly. I apologize for that. I'll be sure to right something not horrible next. Hopefully it wont take most of the month to write. Especially since I actually know what I want to write this time.


	3. Ghosts

24 year old Logan Walker had finally lost his marbles. It had taken a good amount of time, but each and every marble was officially gone. G-O-N-E. The day Logan Walker went crazy was a Tuesday, which was predictable- he'd always known Tuesday would get him eventually. Fuckin' Tuesdays. It was the only day of the week where he could plausibly believe the impossible. Logan Walker saw dead people. His mother and a few Ghosts he'd never had the pleasure to meet (as well as some he had), and Ajax. Oddly enough, they looked just as surprised as he was. Good- let someone else share in the insanity for once.

"Logan?" His mother asked, trying to set a hand on his shoulder and failing. "It's Tuesday, Mama." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. She nodded sagely, and turned to the Ghosts. "Right. It's a Tuesday, so for whatever reason, my baby can see you. Try not to cause any lasting damage, please?" Joanna Walker asked, tapping her foot impatiently. There was a chorus of 'Yes ma'am's, and Logan knew in that moment that he was royally screwed. Ajax cemented this rather firmly by immediately asking him if Keegan and Merrick were fucking yet.

When he had finished choking on air, he stumbled out of the now empty barracks, intent on finding his brother. It took ten minutes of near constant 'Are we there yet?'s and 'I'm booooooorrrrreeeddddddd's until Logan finally, _finally_ found Hesh. Naïvely, the young man thought that they might be quiet for a moment, but immediately the Ghosts started making faces, and talking at his brother, trying to catch his attention. When it became apparent that only Logan could see or hear them, the mob turned to him, grinning. He paled in fear, and Hesh was by his side in an instant. "Logan- _Logan!_ Are you okay?" The older man asked, shaking him slightly.

Logan nodded mutely, unable to trust his voice. With a tiny whimper, he leaned closer to Hesh. His brother rubbed his shoulder, and he sighed. "I- well. I'm fine, Hesh." Logan murmured, straightening up. David nodded, skeptical but unwilling to deny his younger brother's statement. "Get ready to go, Logan- we gotta go soon. They've found Rorke, and we're hoping to catch him, and drag him back for interrogation." He informed the younger. A sharp nod was the only signal that he'd heard. Looking vaguely worried, the older man left Logan alone with his thoughts- and the astral peanut gallery.

The ghosts of the Ghosts- and my _god_ wasn't that an odd thing to think- had been silent up until now, allowing Logan to pay attention to his brother. Joanna, Logan's mother, was nowhere to be seen. 'No lasting damage' she had said. He desperately hoped she came back soon.

"Elias is having a tea party!"

Logan choked again.

...

As it turned out, having a bunch of dead dudes(who were conveniently visible to only you) following you around was really helpful. Logan was very glad, because he was fighting his way to Rorke, and multiple invisible people shouting warnings, and giving useful instruction made his life that much easier. On the downside, his quiet, mildly hysterical giggles were worrying his brother, as well as Keegan and Merrick. In his defense, they couldn't see what he saw. Overlord, a Ghost he had heard of only in legend, was literally waltzing around the room as he instructed Logan on his next brilliant play. Just as Overlord spun Ajax, the young man slid into position.

Across the room, Archangel (another legend) gave a federation soldier a wet-willy. Even though the poor man couldn't see or feel the Ghost, his face contorted in disgust, as though a soggy finger had been crammed into his ear. It was the last expression he ever made, as, at that moment, David shot him thrice in the head. Archangel beamed at the older Walker boy as he finished rolling about on the floor cackling. With the last enemy soldier in this room having been killed, they were free to move on. Not that they got very far before they were throwing themselves behind cover again. At least the helicopter had taken most of them out beforehand.

Unfortunately for the poor federation grunts, these were Ghosts on a mission. Nike, a dark haired woman (and a Ghost Logan had actually met) was hovering over a cluster of 'hidden' enemies, telling them exactly why they were stupid fucks. Logan graciously relayed these words so the others could hear them in all of their glory. Keegan had trouble stifling his giggles, Hesh had his fist crammed into his mouth, and Merrick gave him an odd look. As Logan hurled a grenade behind the crate, the older Ghost shook his head, and the shoot out began as the enemies launched from behind the crate to avoid being exploded.

Logan managed to nail two of them in the ribs before Ajax slammed into his side, knocking him down behind a concrete barrier. Where he had been only moments before was now a smoking crater. Over the gunfire, the young man hadn't heard the clattering of the grenade as it landed, but apparently Ajax had. Huffing his thanks under his breath, Logan sat still for half a second more before he launched from behind his cover. Tackling an enemy as he went, he drove his knife deep into the man's neck. The next thing he noticed was the silence. It was very quiet, if you discounted the soft gurgling of the blood in the poor deceased soldier's throat. At least Merrick, Keegan, and Hesh were still there, but there was a concerning lack of an astral peanut gallery.

...

Shockingly, the ghosts of the Ghosts didn't appear until they were literally waiting outside Rorke's door. It was Overlord who appeared first, knocking on it inaudibly, saying "Honey? Your mother and I are worried about you- you need to make friends with the other children." Logan's lips quirked upward ever so slightly, and the next thing he knew one Gabriel Rorke had been thrown through a window. After that, everything passed in a haze, and when Logan surfaced again, Rorke was being interrogated.

For a moment, Logan felt the hair on his arms prickle, and he threw himself from his chair just in time for everything to get shot to all hell. Suddenly Logan was hanging by the tips of his fingers, feet flailing, staring into Rorke's face as the man told him to actually _look for_ and _join_ him. Seriously, what the fuck? And then he fell. Just before he got out of earshot of Rorke, he was suddenly struck by an odd urge. "WHEEEEEEE~!" Logan shrieked as he plummeted feet first to the earth. Beside him, the astral Ghosts were humming something that sounded suspiciously like 'free-falling'.

Just another fucking day in the life of Logan Walker.

* * *

I'm not sorry about this even a little bit. Not at all, in fact. Whoops my fingers had an epileptic seizure all across my keyboard. I hope this was at least _slightly_ amusing.

Anyhow, blah blah blah, internet took a massive dump, blah blah, laziness. I already have another chapter of this on the back burner, thankfully. Maybe I won't take so long next time. It should be interesting.


	4. Gabriel Rorke: Uncle Extraordinaire

6 year old Logan Walker was very confused. It Tuesday, of course, which meant odd things were bound to happen, but he hadn't known this was a possibility. He hadn't had long enough to study the full power of Tuesday yet, but apparently he could be made to time travel. The only problem was that he didn't know where he was. Wherever he was, he had never been anywhere like it before. He, as was standard, slipped passed any and all adults unnoticed. Silently, he slid into an elevator, and pressed all of the buttons in a random order. It would annoy anyone who got on, and give him time to think about what to do next.

He pressed himself into a corner, sitting down of the floor, and waited. The steady whirring was rather soothing, and the occasional pings kept him from falling asleep. Logan was worried though. The only thing he knew about this new, rather exciting place was that the year was 2026, which he had discerned from a calendar he couldn't otherwise decipher. Another ping sounded as the doors opened, this time accompanied by footsteps. Logan went very still, slowly raising his eyes to inspect this new person. Making as little noise as possible, the boy raised his head from it's place on his knees. It was a man, and he was armed. Thankfully, his back was turned to Logan, who stared intently at the grey fabric of the man's t-shirt.

Somehow, Logan knew this man. It was hard to guess at who he might be, especially since Logan couldn't see his face. After they had stopped at three random floors, the (not)stranger shook his head in disgust, mumbled a quick "Fuckin' pricks." under his breath, and stomped out of the elevator irritably. For some indiscernible reason, Logan scrambled after him, doing his very best to remain hidden. Obviously his best couldn't have been too good, because he saw the very moment the stranger realized he was there. The man had tensed, and paused for barely a second before picking up the pace. Still hidden within the shadows along the wall, Logan began jogging. His feet made barely any noise on the cool tile, except for a light slapping because he wasn't wearing shoes. Indeed, his totally boss light-up sneakers were clenched in one hand, stuck together by the velcro straps.

When the not-stranger hung a left into an empty room, Logan hesitated. He wasn't stupid, and they were on the eighth floor of the building. It was likely that the door he was peering into was the only exit. Eventually, though, Logan couldn't stand it any more, and he stepped in. Immediately, the door swung shut behind him with an ominous click. Curiosity killed the cat- but satisfaction brought him back. Now that he could see the man's face, he knew who it was in an instant."Unca 'Briel!" Logan shrieked gleefully. The shock that flashed across the adult's face was enough to confirm it. This was Gabriel Rorke, Logan's favorite uncle, and the bestest_est _godfather in the history of forever an' ever.

Logan launched forward and attached himself to the other's legs, still squealing in pleasure.

...

Apparently, Logan's uncle had been very surprised to see him- that made sense. It was, like, twenty years in the future so he reckoned that he wasn't six anymore. After a moment, and a seemingly vague "It's Tuesday.", Gabriel had sighed like the explanation made no sense, but picked him up anyway. "Hi there, Shortstop." He rumbled, and Logan's eyebrows shot up. "Hi your face." Logan replied articulately. There was an awkward silence. "Where are we?" The younger finally asked. "Caracas." His uncle/godfather hybrid told him. "Venezuela?" another pause, this one more comfortable "Yes."

...

Rorke got called into work, which was really inconvenient. He had nearly stabbed his hand, having previously been trying to teach Logan the knife game. The kid seemed enthralled with the idea of it, and was currently stabbing holes into the table. Relaying this information to the child, he was surprised when Logan drove the knife into the wooden tabletop before sliding down from his chair. As they walked out the apartment's door, Rorke couldn't help but think 'Fuck you, governor dearest, and fuck your furniture, too'. He didn't realize he'd said it aloud until Logan started giggling.

...

Apparently, children weren't supposed to be taken to this particular work place. Logan had responded to that information with raised eyebrows. He had crossed his arms over his chest, and tapped his foot on the floor. There was silence, if you discounted the taps. The man who had denied Logan's presence squirmed uncomfortably under the kid's stare, and eventually skulked off. Rorke had never been so proud of anything, or anyone.

Now, Rorke may have been crazy enough to bring a kid to work, but he was _not_ going to let him watch. There were some things a six year old was not meant to see, and interrogations fell under that list. Logan was content to sit with a (very awkward) coworker of his (who didn't speak _any_ english, whatsoever), and resume stabbing holes in things. The kid was a natural. Perhaps the knife game was an odd one to teach a first grader, but what else was he going to do with him? It wasn't like he carried Monopoly around with him. Just as he was about to disappear, he heard a tiny voice.

" 'Briel, can we get ice cream later?" Logan asked, not looking up from the floor. Rorke smirked. "Of course we can, kid. Of course we can."

* * *

Not even going to lie to you- this fic runs on the weird side of things, but I like it that way. So anyway, here's something a guest suggested for me to write. It took a while, but here you go. Kid!Logan and Slightly crazy, but still well meaning Fed!Rorke. Once again; no regrets.

If you've never heard of the knife game, look it up on youtube. All will be revealed.


	5. Twenty-four going on One

Logan Walker had been Twenty-Four just yesterday. Apparently, today was international 'Torture Logan Day', a popular, and widespread event that occurred once a week on Tuesday. Logan used to be twenty-four, and now he was too young to know what a twenty-four even was. It was already noon, and Logan was anything but amused. A very shocked Elias had sent a firecall down the line at five that morning. Keegan would never be forgiven for the 'experience' that was shopping for a baby. Diapers were his least favorite, although an argument could be made for the onesie with a hood that made him look like a cat. That was still hidden at the bottom of the bag, mercifully enough.

Logan was currently laid out on his father's bed, clad in only a diaper (Logan's nose wrinkled at the mere thought of it), and he was cold, thanks. With the air of a long suffering man, he complained to his father. Elias Walker's eyebrows drew together at the sound, and he turned to face his younger son. "Whassa matter, sweetheart?" He asked, scooping the irritable baby up from his place on the bed. At that moment Logan's stomach rumbled loudly, and Elias looked enlightened. All had been revealed.

"Ohhhh. I see what your problem is, Mr. Grumpy. You, sir, are a hungry little man." He told Logan, who retched internally at the words 'Mr. Grumpy'. However, as his dad poked him on the stomach and he dissolved into helpless giggles at that exact moment, he was unable to express his utter disgust with the world. Now being held with one arm, Logan stared up at his father as though he had never seen the man in his life. There was nothing physically different about him, he still had More-Salt-then-Pepper hair, still had that perpetual 'dad' look about him, as well as the airs of 'Don't mess with me and mine, or I will end you painfully' about him. However, there is only so much baby talk a (mentally) grown man could take before he realized that his dad was finally cracking up.

It was only when Elias spoke again that the inner monologue was broken. "There we go! Now you won't be running around naked." He rumbled, tugging a little blue shirt over Logan's head. Logan wanted to tell him that he couldn't run because he couldn't stand, but also that he was still _hungry_, amazingly enough. Unfortunately for him, his attempted articulation solely recognized the word 'hungry', and his remark came out as a whimper followed immediately by a small cry. "I'm going, I'm going!" Elias placated, bouncing him a bit as he crammed his feet into his shoes. He was up and headed for the door moments later, pausing only to snatch something off of the dresser top. That something turned out to be a very tiny pair of socks, for which Logan was very grateful.

It was only when they were halfway down the hallway that Logan realized his diaper was on display for the whole world to see. With an alarmed squeak, he cried "Pants!" which only came out as a wail. As opposed to realizing the problem, and rectifying it, his father began jogging down the hallway. God dammit.

...

Logan continued his protests at not having any pants, which came out as cries that grew steadily more intense. Eventually he realized that his wailing had the reverse effect of what he wanted. His dad thought he was hungry (he was, but he wanted pants more) and was rushing to get something in his stomach to shut him up. Unfortunately, it was too late once he'd figured that out- he was already crying, and he couldn't stop. Elias suddenly skidded to a stop in the middle of the hallway, sobbing baby in one arm. He fished around in the pocket on his shirt, and withdrew a pacifier. Silently, Elias thanked the foresight of his friends as he pressed it into Logan's mouth.

Now that the one problem was solved, he moved to fix the next. He was hungry, and so was the baby. That was a simple one- the solution was food. Elias began moving forward once again, much to Logan's glee. Babies were so easy to please. His son was still teary-eyed, and hiccoughing behind the pacifier, but he squealed eagerly when he picked up the pace again. "That's better, huh baby? Much quieter! Now we're gonna get some food for you. Won't that be nice? Yes, it will." Elias' rather one-sided dialogue continued, much to Logan's hidden consternation. It wasn't until he was actually in the mess hall that Logan realized where they were going.

He scanned the room carefully, looking for- ah. Hesh was over there. The older Walker boy got up and made his way to them as though he had been summoned, and Logan grinned inwardly. When he arrived, his father greeted him with a "Hold your brother while I get some food." The two were left alone with each other, and Hesh was still holding him at arms length. "You know, you're much cuter like this." He told Logan, finally shifting his grasp on his brother. Logan's reply of "Fuck you, David." was lost in translation, becoming an irritated gurgle.

...

Logan had learned two new things: the first was that the Fruit Medley baby food was actually pretty good (read: delicious- he would definitely be looking into getting more of it), and the second thing was that his father was _not_ a bastard, and did not make him drink baby formula. He was, however, required to drink some by his brother (with whom his father had abandoned him) not half an hour later. However, since he was able to express his displeasure by puking down David's front, he reckoned it was worth it.

...

Merrick's cooing and fussing over him was terrifying, and Logan maybe cried a lot. They seemed to think it was the mask. It wasn't. He was placated when Merrick gave him a ring of keys. Haha! They were all jingly. Logan might have giggled- just a little bit. No, he did not want to smile for the camera thank you very much. If you could just get the camera out of get face, please. Keegan. Keegan, no. Merrick jingled the keys by his face again. Hold that thought, Keegan. Logan had much more pressing matters to attend to.

...

Kick was officially his favorite. Having spent several moments previous being hurled into the air, he felt that his decision was well founded. Also, he had managed to find him another set of keys. Hot _damn_. Keys! Who knew, right? Definitely his favorite.

...

Logan did not like dirty diapers. Not even a little bit. He had managed to communicate this with his father by screaming loudly for a few minutes. Elias had taken several seconds more then that to figure out what the problem was. However, when he did figure out what was wrong, his nose wrinkled in disgust. "Are you icky, Logan? Hm?" his response was yet another wail, which he took to mean 'yes'. "Oh, I _know_." His dad cooed sympathetically "It's just awful, isn't it?" Yes, dad, it _was_, thank you for asking.

His shrieks subsided only a bit as he was toted to a bathroom. Logan flailed for a bit before settling down. "Whew! What have you been eating, Logan?" Elias asked, eyebrows raised. "You would know, dad." once again, this perfectly lovely sentence became a string of babble, and- COLD!

...

There was an upside to being a baby. You could take naps on your dad's chest. Logan was very pleased (and also disconcerted) to find that his entirety fit on Elias' chest. It was weird. The soft thumping that was his pillow's heartbeat was soothing, somehow, and when coupled with the gentle rise and fall whenever his dad drew a breath, it was almost lethal. Logan was sleepy. A nap sounded lovely right about now, and judging by the gentle snores, his dad agreed. David thought it would make a very cute picture. (He was right)

...

Seriously, though. _Keys!_

...

Logan had been in a much better mood after his unplanned (but much appreciated) nap. In fact, he was willing to forgive Keegan's transgressions from earlier that day. Shopping was bad on the best of days, and today was not the best of days. That was all in the past, though. Keegan had procured crayons from somewhere, which might have helped with the forgiveness. Also, Keegan agreed that his masterpiece was, in fact, a masterpiece. The eclectic choosing of colors and their placements was glorious, and he was glad someone else realized it. Then there was finger paint. Look out, Kick- Keegan is vying for your place as favorite.

...

Hesh, as it turned out, was _also_ in a much better mood after Logan's nap. Logan wasn't sure why that was, but he wasn't going to complain. He was currently unable to complain anyway- his joyful squealing was a thing, after all. Hesh continued bouncing his knee while he did some paperwork. Logan continued shrieking with laughter. Then his brother got a rather devious idea. That his baby brother was too young to realize it at the moment was just a plus. "Hey cutiepie- you wanna do big brother a favor?" David cooed at him, ceasing the bouncing.

Logan quite like tearing Hesh's paperwork up.

...

Bath's, Logan had decided, were okay. At least they were warm. He was very tired, though, so he just decided to screw it all, and went to sleep. Elias just chuckled, and toweled him off. Upon diapering, and clothing his youngest son, he put him to bed. Upon inspection of his alarm clock, he realized that it was much later then he had anticipated. After he had changed into sweatpants, he too went to bed.

...

It was Wednesday. It was Wednesday, and Logan was still a baby. Somehow, he got the impression that he wasn't going to get back to being an adult until next Tuesday. He was not pleased. The only thing that made it worse was that they had apparently found the cat onesie. Logan had figured this out because he was now _wearing_ the cat onesie. Worst. Day. Ever.

* * *

Have some very unamused baby!Logan. I don't even know. I think my hands had another seizure. I actually _am_ sorry for this one (No I'm not). So- I write all of these at, like, two in the morning. Yeah. That explains a bit, huh?


End file.
